


Change of Perspective

by DarkShadeless



Series: SWTOR - collection [12]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: (kinda), Body Horror, Bodyswap, Loss of Limbs, M/M, bodyswap handled badly?, gaining implants over night you have no idea how to deal with, i think, ppl waking up in prime real estate that isn't theirs, prompts, really unsure how to tag this, related to that, sorry - Freeform, that's... everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 12:46:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19426276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkShadeless/pseuds/DarkShadeless
Summary: Anonymous asked (on tumblr):what would go worse Raan and Yon body swapped for 24 hours or Theron and Yon body swapped for 24 hours?WELL.… have some equal opportunity disaster zones >>;





	Change of Perspective

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous/gifts).



> Prompt here: https://darkshadeless.tumblr.com/post/185966003093/what-would-go-worse-raan-and-yon-body-swapped-for
> 
> It's less 24 hours and more 10 minutes XD the first ten minutes to be exact.  
> Cry counter (times writing this answer made me tear up): III

Raan – Yon

from the Wrath and Ruin AU (that I haven’t posted anything of yet XD Raan became the Commander of the Alliance, Yon faced the twins on Korriban and survived to remain Empire’s Wrath)

Raan wakes with a start. Panic claws at him and clogs his throat before he is aware enough to know _why_.

Everything feels wrong. He is hypersensitive, _laid bare_ as if he doesn’t have even the soft fur of a youngling. The sheets he’s wrapped in are unbearably coarse. He can’t smell kriff all. He’s half-blind. It’s like being fresh out of carbonite all over again.

That possibility is nearly the furthest thing from his mind, though.

Jedi are trained to remain _calm_. No matter what happens, you need to keep a cool head, keep a hold of yourself and face the galaxy from a point of inner balance. Serenity, if you can manage that.

Quite honestly, Jedi training falls terribly short sometimes.

Raan wakes with a start and he panics.

He flails his way of the sleeping pallet he’s lying on (not a torture device, not a medical berth, not his quarters-) and lands hard. The fall jars him in places that have no business being jarred. He shouldn’t feel- he shouldn’t- he should-

He should _stay calm_.

Raan is still trying and failing to control his breathing when the door opens. Red light floods the room and makes him close his sensitized eyes. His ears should be folding back but they’re not, they’re unmoving and they’re _wrong_ but not nearly as wrong as- as-

There’s a person, a shadow against the light. That’s all he can make out.

“Master?”

The word is so distorted Raan barely understands it, as if they are speaking underwater, but their presence in the Force is kind. It’s _gentle,_ reaching for him and he only realizes how his own is thrashing when they lean into him regardless.

He can’t stop. He tries but he can’t- he can’t- Raan has no idea how he finds the air to wheeze an answer. “I can’t feel my hands.” Or his _legs_. He can’t feel anything but a dull pressure, in places, as if his limbs have fallen asleep and they should wake up any second now. Any, any second.

There’s a shock of warmth on his cheek. It centers him enough to stare at Jaesa Willsaam, kneeling in front of him with her hand on his cheek. She looks as if her heart is breaking. “Oh Master.”

_Why is she calling me master?_

Like so many other things that little mystery falls short of Raan’s shock. Jaesa’s thumb brushes over his- his skin.

Why is there no _fur on his face?_

She tries to smile. It looks painful. “It’s going to be alright. Give it a little time and you… you will remember.”

Remember _what_?

* * *

Yon knows there is something off before he is all the way awake.

That’s not unusual. His senses are sharp and his awareness of minute changes in the Force even sharper. He has trained his whole life to hone them. Some nights he will surface from true sleep into the half-state that’s not quite meditation and definitely not awake hourly. It’s been that way more often since they came to Odessen.

It is not safe here.

Many nights it’s nothing. Jaesa, brushing against a nightmare of her own. An officer of the nightshift passing the hallway outside his quarters, unhappy about his rations. A stray mouse droid.

Tonight it’s not nothing.

Slowly, Yon grows more aware. His breathing remains even. Until he opens his eyes he could have passed for asleep. The ceiling above his bed comes into focus. The Sith counts his heartbeats and catalogues the differences.

His body feels strange. All of his senses seem to have been magnified. Even his own breaths are harsh and loud to his own ears. This isn't the room he went to sleep in.

_Drugs?_

He hasn’t had any stims. Doesn’t really see the use of them outside of emergencies, when he has the most powerful of all at his disposal at all times. The Force is much more fine-tuned as an analeptic than a chemical could ever be.

But this is not a Force-given power boost, not even one brought on by his wake-up call.

His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth but does, strangely, feel too thin instead of swelled by dehydration. Every bit of his skin feels wrong.

It’s unbearably hot.

Slowly Yon raises a hand in front of his eyes. Apparently he sees in shades of grey, for some reason. He notes that clinically as he turns an appendage he shouldn’t _have_ this way and that.

His hand looks like something out of a horror movie. Furred and clawed.

_What the kriff is going on here?_

(… and then he ran into Arcann and tried to stab him at which point the entire Alliance was convinced their Commander had gone Valkoriate for a bit.)

* * *

Theron – Yon

from the Overseer AU (which I have posted A LOT of XD Yon never became Empire’s Wrath and spent his life yelling at acolytes on Korriban instead until he was drafted to be a part of the Alliance. Theron tripped over mission protocol and fell into his bed at some point. He never left. (… well he leaves for WORK. But he comes back.))

In hindsight, Theron is pretty sure it should have had more of an impact. Waking up in the wrong body? Kind of should have registered, shouldn’t it.

Well… when it goes hand in hand with waking up next to someone who is _screaming_ it’s not all that impressive, apparently.

So. Screaming.

Theron startles awake, gets tangled in the cover and almost falls out of bed. His first thought is ‘ _Yon_.’

Actually it’s less of a thought and more of a bone-deep emotion. He feels as though he is reaching for his lover with his whole being, no matter how tacky that sounds it _does_ feel that way and- all he finds is pain.

Yon is _in pain_ and he’s not _doing anything_ why isn’t he _doing anything_ something is _wrong_ and it needs to be _fixed_.

 _Ow ow **kriff** **ow**_ , is pounding in Theron’s mind, a mantra and a plea, an urge to _help_ and a need.

Another wave of agony, as bad as the worst migraines his implant has ever given him, slaps him right in the face and he could swear he’s feeling it himself only he’s _not._ What the kriff is going on?

Theron drags his focus together by inches and tries to untangle himself. It’s their favorite blanket, soft and light but warm enough and- why is he thinking about the _blanket_? ( _There are so many memories attached to it-_ )

Apparently they’ve worn it thin, is what Theron was going for. He tries to untangle himself and tears it clean in two.

It’s that kind of night.

By the time he finally gets to Yon a small eternity has passed (two minutes) and his lover has curled into a ball on top of the sheets, clutching at his head.

Theron reaches out to touch him when he sees it. (Later, much later, he will be incredibly grateful that he saw it before he could do that. Suns and stars.)

One of his hands is pitch black.

It’s so dark he can see it even in their near lightless bedroom. Black and _clunky_ , it doesn’t look like a hand at all. Okay, no, that’s not right. It _does_ look like a hand. Like the hand of an HK unit.

Theron… checks out a little bit right there, staring at the droid limb attached to his body and… totally not freaking out. Then Yon whimpers and his entire brain spirals down the same path as before, suddenly invested in his pain as if it's Theron's _own_ in a weird feedback loop of hurt and what the _shit_ -

“Yon? Yon are you okay?”

That is the stupidest question anyone alive has ever asked. He’s not okay. Theron can _feel it_.

He doesn’t dare touch him with the droid hand so he does it with the other, brushing it over his hair, where his lover is pulling on it. As soon as their fingers touch Yon clutches his hand instead, so hard Theron is sure he’s going to bruise. “Yon?”

… his voice isn’t right, is it? He sounds like he’s hoarse but his throat feels fine.

And then Yon uncurls enough to look at him, face scrunched up in pain, and the person looking up at Theron is… it’s himself.

_What the **fuck**._

**Author's Note:**

> All in all I'd say Raan-Yon would be worse. <<; Raan has (understandably) zero chill and NOBODY has ANY chill over their Jedi Commander suddenly flashing Sith eyes.  
>   
> Yon and Theron will get their shit together. Probably. They have each other.


End file.
